


Not as Expected

by OneofWebs



Series: Jaskier's a Merman or Maybe a Siren [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Awkward Romance, Body Worship, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Kissing, M/M, Pillow Talk, Power Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Roleplay Revealed at Ending, Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, fish anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Geralt believes one thing firmly: sometimes there's monsters, sometimes there's coin, but there's rarely both. When he gets a job with some vague story about how a siren just seems to exist too close to this town for the townspeople's comfort, he's not expecting to find anything. He does find something. Something that he wasn't expecting.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Jaskier's a Merman or Maybe a Siren [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821676
Comments: 36
Kudos: 456
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	Not as Expected

**Author's Note:**

> I was suddenly overcome with other concepts of Jaskier as a merperson and I could not help myself. This had to be done. I wrote this yesterday in one sitting, so let's hope for the best.
> 
> Do enjoy!
> 
> **Important: I do want my readers to be aware that the beginning of the fic may come across as non-consensual, but is entirely consensual. Thank you!**
> 
> Couldn't find a tag that worked well enough to say that so i just typed it. Hope that works out well for me.

This wasn’t the worst job Geralt had ever contracted, but it was just about the stupidest. Sirens. He really didn’t expect to see a siren where he was headed, as they were rare enough. Neither was this an area particularly known for having them. Unless one had suddenly jumped its way into the Great Sea, Geralt didn’t think he’d be finding one. Still, they paid well enough to have the abomination dealt with. Geralt was happy enough to go look around, do some investigating, and tell the town they were worthless idiots.

That last part he would keep to himself. As it turned out, townsfolk usually wanted their gold back when they were insulted. Geralt didn’t blame them, but he needed the coin. It was an easy job for some easy coin; he wasn’t expecting a monster.

However, as he approached the coastline, he was beginning to think that maybe he had been wrong. There was an eerie song hanging in the air, though Geralt hadn’t a clue who it might be for. It certainly sounded like a siren; Geralt couldn’t recall if the townspeople had told him anything about the fishermen being lured to their death. They did have a story about a fisherman dying, but the man had been drunk. As far as Geralt was concerned, he flopped over the side of his own boat and died of his own fault.

Geralt tried not to make much of a habit defending monsters, especially when they were the type of monsters that didn’t need defending. The monsters that hadn’t done anything wrong, though. He could make an exception for another creature just trying to live its life. As long as he could tell the townspeople their trouble was dealt with, they didn’t need to know how.

Geralt dismounted from Roach and tied her to a tree far enough away from the coast that he wouldn’t have to worry about her. He made the rest of the trek on foot, straight to the edge of the water. He fished about in his bag for the potion he needed, then dumped the bag on the sand. He looked out over the water for just a moment, taking it in. The sun was on its way to falling; it glistened off the water near perfectly. Beautifully. There was a large rock not too far out into sea; that would work as a landmark. He didn’t need to get lost in the waves.

He set to removing his boots, his swords, his gauntlets. He wasn’t about to dip into a water with a potential monster entirely naked, but too much armor would just be a hindrance. He needed the right balance. All of it, he set up in the sand by his bag. He took off his belts, next, and dropped those to the side. All he needed was his crossbow and enough armor to keep him from dying should this be a siren and should the siren attack. The song was trickling off, and with it went whatever little belief he still had that he was facing a siren.

The water was cool against his feet as he stepped in. Before he made the real plunge, he drank back the potion he’d been saving. It tasted vile, but he swallowed it quickly. Then, he walked out into the water. Dove into it once the sand tapered away. The potion meant he could breathe below the surface, but it would eventually wear off. He needed to work fast—but he didn’t need to work at all.

He saw it, right there, floating in the water. This couldn’t be a siren. Geralt had never seen a male siren. While, realistically, that didn’t mean they didn’t exist, he’d never heard of one either. It was the females who the stories were about. It was the females he’d met in battle, too. This was clearly a male before him, with short brown hair. Sparkling eyes, almost glowing. There were gills along his neck, flapping as he breathed. Ears, but not quite, rimmed with webbed fins. His fingers were webbed in much the same way. His torso disappeared into a smattering of beautiful blue scales.

Those scales started high in groups of two or three but came together just at the dip of his pelvis to make the tail. Geralt let his eyes trail down the length of this creature. The tail was beautiful, really, sparkling in the remnants of sunlight that made it down below the surface.

The creature began to sing again, and it was the sweetest sound Geralt had ever heard. He should have been immune to it. He was immune to it; it was much like magic, and it shouldn’t have made him feel weak and complacent, but it did. It had Geralt swimming through the water just to get closer. As the creature sang, Geralt’s want for something grew. What was it he wanted? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he and this monster were swimming around each other.

A dance. The monster had dragged him into its dance, and Geralt was doing it. Almost willingly. It couldn’t be the song that brought him here, but there he was. Circling in the water with something. It couldn’t be a siren, but Geralt was having a hard time keeping his thoughts together. He was unknowingly and unwittingly drifting right to where this creature wanted him.

The creature struck with an untold speed, grabbing Geralt in the pit of his arms with enough force it knocked the air clean out of him. He dropped his crossbow as the creature carried him off, like a bullet through the water. Geralt couldn’t even struggle, not with the build of pressure around him. It was impossibly quick; the creature just dragged him away.

When they surfaced, Geralt was hoisted up onto solid rock. It was the rock. The one that he’d seen cresting out of the water. It wasn’t just a rock; apparently, it was an underwater cave. The creature dragged him up through the pool and dumped him on the rock. The creature pulled itself out of the water next, flopping its tail right beside Geralt. When it smiled, it smiled with sharp teeth meant for ripping things apart. Like fish. Hopefully not men.

“What did you do to me?” Geralt rasped.

“Nothing you won’t like, Witcher,” the creature responded. “Yes, I know about you. Lots of stories about you Witchers coming down for a quick coin. Wipe us all out.”

“You’re killing the townspeople—”

“Are we?” the creature asked. “Or are we just having fun, and you humans are too weak to withstand it?”

Geralt frowned. “I’m not a human.” He tried to push himself up, but the creature had an untold amount of strength and pushed him back down.

“Would you like to play, Witcher?”

Geralt felt this uncanny need to say yes. He swallowed it back and glared at the monster.

It smiled its toothy grin again. “You do. You do because I want you to. You can’t resist it. I know you can’t.”

“What are you?” Geralt asked. He had to know before he lost total control of his body. Already, his fingers were twitching with the need to grab and touch and feel.

“You can call me Jaskier,” the creature said. “You want this, Witcher. I know you do. So—show me,” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt suddenly surged up and pressed Jaskier into the ground. Jaskier jolted, but he shivered, overtaken with the display of strength. His fins tapped into the rock, and he dragged his hands up Geralt’s armored chest. When he reached Geralt’s neck, he yanked down and pressed their lips together. Geralt kissed ferociously, grabbing Jaskier’s face and pressing into him, his tongue right along the seam of Jaskier’s lips. Jaskier moaned so prettily when his lips parted, and Geralt dragged his tongue over anything he could reach. The sharp teeth, the ridges of Jaskier’s mouth, anything that made him shudder. 

He was enjoying the way Jaskier writhed underneath him, under his touch. Jaskier’s jaw went slack in his hold, letting Geralt kiss how he pleased. There was teeth, tongue, and saliva dripping down from the corner of Jaskier’s lips. Beautiful. Perfect. Geralt didn’t know what had come over him, but he suddenly needed this like he needed air.

“What did you do to me?” Geralt gasped as he pulled back.

“I made you fun,” Jaskier explained, already breathless. Geralt was sitting on his waist, and it gave the perfect view of all of him. The parts that mattered, anyway. Jaskier trailed his gaze down from Geralt’s chest to the clear bulge in his trousers. Jaskier cupped him and listened happily to the way that his breath caught up in his throat.

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned. “What do you want from me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jaskier asked. He massaged Geralt’s cock through his trousers. “I want this,” he punctuated the word with a hiss and a hard squeeze of his fingers, “inside of me.”

Geralt felt the shiver that ran up through his spine. He wanted that too. Whatever this creature had done to him was making him want it. When Jaskier cupped his jaw and pulled him back down, Geralt went willingly.

“I want your mouth on me,” Jaskier muttered. “I think I deserve to be worshiped.”

Geralt cracked the smallest smirk. He would remember that for later, but for now, he did exactly as Jaskier demanded. He surged forward and trapped him in another hot kiss, trailing his fingers along the length of Jaskier’s neck. He felt along the flaps of Jaskier’s gills, too. Jaskier trembled at the touch—it was intimate. A touch that required trust. Geralt’s fingers stayed loose, the touch near feather-like, and his kisses trailed from Jaskier’s lips to his jaw to his neck, where he followed his fingertips down, down.

Jaskier trembled under the touch, letting his eyes close just to feel as Geralt moved. The pressure was gone from his waist when Geralt pushed himself up, but the touch never stopped. Geralt’s lips dragged along his skin, teeth nipping here or there. Jaskier tasted like salt water, and suddenly, Geralt couldn’t get enough. He dragged his tongue down the crease of Jaskier’s chest before he wrapped his lips around a nipple. Jaskier gasped, then, his back arching into the heat.

That gave Geralt the space he needed to grab Jaskier, hands around his chest, and hold him right there. Arched up, beautiful, and begging for touch. Geralt sucked over his nipple and lapped at it, feeling the bud go hard in his mouth. Jaskier gripped into Geralt’s shoulders, trying to ground himself as the pleasure overtook him. When Geralt switched sides, it all started a new, only this time, Geralt’s hold allowed him to thumb over the previously abused nipple.

As Jaskier’s jaw fell open, he rolled his head back. His tail twitched, flapping up like he meant to hit Geralt and tell him to get on with it. He missed and didn’t try again, just letting himself feel as Geralt’s tongue lavished over him. Once both of Jaskier’s nipples had turned pert and red, Geralt carried on. He dragged his kisses down Jaskier’s sternum, over his abdomen. When the scales started to appear, Geralt gave them the same attention he gave everything else.

They were more sensitive than he would expect, but Jaskier trembled at the first touch of lips into his scales. His hips bucked; his tail smacked against the rock. His whole body was thrumming with pleasure, and Geralt just kept going. Worshiping Jaskier, just like he’d asked. When those lips hit the line of his pelvis, where his skin turned into solid scales, Jaskier cried out. Geralt sank lower, kissing here or there until he came level with Jaskier’s parting slit.

Geralt trailed his fingers around it, pulling it open as gently as he could. Jaskier cried out at the touch alone, but when Geralt’s fingers dipped into him, he nearly spasmed.

“G-Geral—Witcher, fuck,” Jaskier cried out, his hips bucking.

Geralt leaned down and trailed his mouth along the quivering bit of skin. Such a sensitive little area, unprotected. As Geralt licked over it, kissing it, Jaskier moaned. He had his fingers tangled in Geralt’s hair, trying to keep himself together. Geralt was slowly but surely breaking him down, one swipe of his tongue at a time. It didn’t take long for that tongue to dip into the slit alongside his fingers, and Jaskier nearly lost himself right there. Geralt’s fingers pulled away, after, but he continued to mouth over the slit.

When Geralt pulled away, leaving Jaskier wet with saliva, it was to press his fingers back inside. He coaxed Jaskier’s long, slick cock right out. Jaskier trembled at the touch, shifting up to his elbows so he could watch as Geralt’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Jaskier’s hips bucked, and he dropped his jaw open in a quiet moan. Geralt didn’t stay long. He took the length of Jaskier’s cock into his throat once, twice, before pulling away completely.

Jaskier flopped back down into the rocks when that was done, like a weight had just been taken off of him and he could breathe again.

“I’m not done with you,” he managed to say.

Geralt groaned, trying to ignore his own growing arousal. He looked up at Jaskier, an angry and petulant sort of look that said they should be done. Jaskier had gotten his mouth worship, even if that’s all he’d gotten. Geralt was still trying to fight this urge to do what he was told, what Jaskier told him to do. Even now, just hearing Jaskier say that they weren’t as done as they ought to be had Geralt leaning into him, curious for more. Wanting for more.

“Touch me,” Jaskier said. He pushed himself up on his elbows, taking Geralt’s hand. Geralt didn’t even try to fight it, and instead let Jaskier direct the touch.

He pressed Geralt’s hand over his slit, biting back his own moan at the sudden touch. He positioned Geralt’s fingers right where they needed to go.

“Here,” Jaskier said. There was a space just below his cock. Jaskier looked at Geralt, never one breaking eye-contact, as he fell apart all at once. He pulled on Geralt’s wrist, and that was all it took to have two of Geralt’s fingers sinking into him. His jaw dropped open, and he gasped aloud.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Oh, Witcher, right there.” Jaskier fell back down into the ground, his hips bucking up.

Geralt moved his fingers, working them deep and spreading them open inside of Jaskier. Jaskier trembled, writhed underneath the touch. The deeper Geralt pressed, the more open Jaskier felt. The more sensitive. He could feel Geralt’s fingers working inside of him, spreading out, rubbing against his slippery walls.

“Hurry,” Jaskier begged.

Geralt responded with the press of a third finger. The way Jaskier just keened went straight to his cock, now throbbing against the compression of his trousers. He longed to just get this over with, but something was keeping him right where he was, doing what he was told. He worked his fingers into Jaskier, fucking him with them. He thrust them deep, shallow, hard—whatever it was at that moment that had Jaskier whimpering and rolling his hips up to meet the touch.

This merman, siren—whatever he was, was the most beautiful creature Geralt had ever seen. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t hate this. If anything, he liked how responsive Jaskier was. How sensitive this little slit was turning out to be. One crook of his fingers was all it took to have Jaskier crying out, his inhuman cock twitching against the scales of his tail.

Jaskier sat up all at once, reaching for Geralt’s armor. Geralt pulled his fingers back to help get all of it off. He wanted to keep it on. That was the reason he’d worn some of it, because without it, he was vulnerable. Maybe not as vulnerable as a human, but vulnerable. Now, he was helping the creature get it off, toss it to the side of their private cave. When they moved to the trousers, Geralt did most of the work. At the sight of his cock, straining and red, Jaskier let out an audible moan.

Jaskier wrapped his webbed fingers around it, and it was Geralt’s turn to grunt. He was impossibly aroused, and Jaskier’s fingers felt so strange against his skin. He couldn’t help the pleasure that spun through him. When Jaskier’s hand disappeared, it was only to wrap around his own cock for the briefest of moments. When his hand returned, it was slick. Jaskier coated Geralt’s cock in that slick, shuddering through each stroke.

“Inside of me,” Jaskier gasped when he was finished. He laid back into the ground, and if he’d had legs, he might have spread them open at that moment. Instead, he just rolled his hips up. “I know you want to make me feel good, so do it. Fuck me, Witcher.”

Geralt growled, but he couldn’t stop his body from moving. He straddled over Jaskier’s hips, angling his cock down into his slit. He rolled his hips, and his cockhead caught right on the edge of the slick, wet opening. Jaskier’s jaw dropped open. He cried out as Geralt sunk into him. It was a continuous, hard press. Jaskier split open wider and wider as Geralt moved forward, but he accepted every thick inch of Geralt’s cock. He moaned, his hips bucking. It didn’t take long for Geralt to be flush against him, cock fully seated.

Jaskier clung for purchase at Geralt’s sides, slapping his tail into the rocks. Geralt started to move a second later, and god, Jaskier lost himself. The way Geralt’s cock pressed inside of him, forcing its way through, carving itself out a perfectly sized place—Jaskier could feel all of the ways Geralt moved inside of him, fucked deeper. Jaskier just held on with whatever strength he could manage, trying to keep himself grounded as Geralt flooded him with pleasure.

“Fuck—fuck—” Jaskier cried out, his back arching. “Harder, Witcher, harder—”

Geralt responded with a heavy thrust, slapping their skin together. Jaskier’s breath was taken right from him, and he cried out with his pleasure. Jaskier’s body positively writhed, everything around him falling to pieces. Jaskier’s hips bucked wildly, rolling up to meet every one of Geralt’s hard thrusts. It didn’t take long for Jaskier to be overcome with his orgasm. His whole body trembled as he came, his fingers dragging over Geralt’s skin as he tried to find purchase.

All through it, Geralt kept bucking his hips. He went faster, chasing his own orgasm now at Jaskier’s behest. The more he worked, the longer Jaskier’s orgasm seemed to go. The higher it took him. He cried out with every one of Geralt’s punishing thrusts, grabbing into his hair, at his shoulders—wherever he could reach.

“Come on,” Jaskier cried. “Come for me, Witcher. Hurry up, this is—fuck,” Jaskier cried. It was almost too much, but Geralt didn’t leave him hanging on the edge for too long.

When Geralt’s hips began to stutter, Jaskier knew he was close. Geralt was too easy to figure out, and Jaskier loved it. He bucked his hips up to meet Geralt’s, and in the next instant, he was coming. Jaskier moaned again as he felt every ounce of spend Geralt filled him with. Geralt’s hips bucked once, twice, and he was finished. He nearly collapsed forward onto Jaskier but managed to catch himself before that happened.

As Geralt pulled out, Jaskier whimpered. He wanted it back. He wanted Geralt back. He didn’t want him to go far, and thankfully, he didn’t. Geralt just shifted to lounge on the rock beside Jaskier. Jaskier tilted his head to look at Geralt, mustering up the best pair of begging eyes he could manage, complete with a pouting lip.

“Touch me,” Jaskier begged. “I’m not—please.”

Geralt complied. He spread his fingers out over Jaskier’s tail before going right back for his slit, digging his fingers down inside him where the feel of his own spend eased the passage. Jaskier shuddered; Geralt had gone straight for him, two fingers pressed in to the third knuckle.

“You really need to stop causing so much trouble,” Geralt said, crooking his fingers. Jaskier’s breath hitched, but he looked at Geralt.

“Really, now? You only ever come to see me when it’s a job—”

“I meant the part where you made me drop my crossbow,” Geralt corrected, shifting up on his forearm to move closer.

“Oh.” Jaskier’s face flushed. “I’ll get it for you. I got so caught up in the moment, you know? It was a nice play, I thought. A bit overwhelming, the fact you even wanted to do something like that, let alone all of the planning that went into it.”

Geralt smiled, twisting his fingers. Jaskier’s eyes closed tightly, and he shuddered. “It was a very nice play.” In reality, Jaskier hadn’t done more to him than sing a pretty song. It’d been Jaskier’s eyes to try something like that, like Geralt was overtaken by something—magic, whatever—that made him compliant and fun. Geralt hadn’t minded the idea. Certainly, hadn’t minded the outcome, not when he was two fingers deep in a very pretty fish man.

“Wish you would visit me more,” Jaskier muttered, letting his eyes flutter back open. “Wish you could stay. Wish I could go with you, even.”

“You’d fry in the sun,” Geralt responded with a snort. “I can visit more often. Big sea. You just need to be there.”

“Yes, of course. Let me just learn to magically follow you up the coastline with absolutely no regard for my own safety—perfect, Geralt. How would I even find you? I’m not a dog—” he broke off into a scattered moan as Geralt’s finger twisted inside of him. He was calmed almost instantly and calmed again when Geralt leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

“I didn’t mean it,” Geralt said. “I wouldn’t want you in dangerous waters.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, but he shifted closer. “You’ll visit, right?” Jaskier whispered. “Even if I stop causing trouble? Don’t come back just because you get money, it—”

Geralt shushed him. “I’ll visit,” he promised. “I was on my way back here when you started the trouble. I wasn’t expecting a job when I stopped in town. I won’t expect one next time.”

Jaskier smiled against Geralt’s neck, moving as close as he could. Geralt pulled his fingers back and just stroked along Jaskier’s scales.

“Need to get you back in the water,” Geralt muttered.

Jaskier shook his head. “Just a minute longer. Please, Geralt.”

“Just another minute, then.”

After that minute was over, Geralt took a quick minute to clean himself off in the pool. Then, he pulled his wet clothes back on. It was uncomfortable, but it was going to happen sooner or later. He preferred not to wash up on the beach naked, so he dressed. Jaskier watched him from the edge of the pool as he dressed, sinking his tail back into the water. When Geralt approached him, Jaskier raised up his arms.

They could never go anywhere, so even if it meant nothing, Jaskier liked when Geralt hoisted him up in the air. Geralt was more than happy to hold him for that moment, because it was one of the only moments they’d ever really have. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, leaned into him, and Geralt shifted that massive tail in the crook of his arm.

“Be safe,” Geralt muttered. He stepped up to the edge of the pool and sat down, ready to drop Jaskier into it.

“You, too. I expect a visit. I don’t need to be over hearing fishermen that a Witcher died—”

“And I don’t need you going near fishermen.”

Jaskier nodded. After a brief kiss on the cheek, Jaskier was deposited right back into the water. Geralt would follow a moment after, hopeful that the potion hadn’t worn off too soon. If it did, Jaskier would drag him to shore. If it didn’t, Jaskier would meet him near short to return his lost crossbow. They’d say their goodbyes, and Geralt would try to ignore how upset Jaskier always looked when they parted. He would be back, though. He might even return with something nice for Jaskier, as a present. Jewelry, or something. Merpeople were supposed to like jewelry.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [Check me out on Tumblr!](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)   
>  [My Twitter!](https://twitter.com/tantumunawrites)   
> 


End file.
